


the red string of fate

by aizensosuke



Series: ByaRen Week 2018 [7]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Introspection, Light Angst, Live Action Universe, M/M, Memory Alteration, Nightmares, Temporary Character Death, Trans Character, Trans Kuchiki Byakuya, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aizensosuke/pseuds/aizensosuke
Summary: byakuya wakes up in a world that is not quite his own.





	the red string of fate

When Kuchiki Byakuya closes his eyes, he does so for what is supposed to be the final time. Shinigami who pass away become the reishi that uphold the power of Soul Society, and though it would seem a grim ending to most, this is an ending he has anticipated his entire life and one he finds himself curling his fingers around like a reassurance and a certainty, a comfort as the pain slowly ebs away from his body.

He died protecting his niece. He died with his body shielding Ichika, her hands small and trembling against his back, her broken sobs ringing in his ears as he stepped between her and danger without a moment’s hesitation. He died with his body in the arms of Abarai Renji, his lips cold and his limbs growing numb, blood warm on his skin. Dark brown eyes above him seemed to demand why, to demand him to stay. In the distance, he can hear Rukia’s voice, her scream of  _ niisama _ as she tries to run to him as quickly as possible.

Maybe he deserves to die. A bastard like him who would fall in love with his sister’s husband and hoard such a secret for the entirety of his life, a man who mistreated his sister and his lieutenant until a stranger was forced to open his eyes to show him the world he should have always been able to see. With his head resting in the bend of Renji’s elbow, he almost feels at peace with this decision. Even as Renji’s tears drip down onto his cheeks, even as Renji’s voice breaks as he pushes Byakuya’s hair back off of his face, Byakuya thinks he can go out just like this. He hates that his niece needs to be acquainted with such violent death so early, but it was necessary to protect her.

When Kuchiki Byakuya closes his eyes, when he gives his soul away to the world waiting beyond him and the soothing calm of the darkness, he can accept the words that never left his lips, the weight of the choice he made to never tell Renji he was in love with him.

For his sister, for his niece, for the lieutenant who never left his side— his closest companion, his  _ best friend _ — Byakuya can die with this secret trapped within the confines of his heart, and find a way to call that peace.

☽     ☾     ☽     ☾

When Kuchiki Byakuya opens his eyes, there is a weight next to him on his futon.

The room is the same, but slightly different as well; he rises a hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes, gaze fixed on the beams over his head and the way the early morning sunlight creates shadows in their crevices. Had it just been a dream then? Rukia’s scream, Ichika’s sobs, Renji’s begging… Byakuya holds his hand out in front of him, flexes his fingers, and wonders how his mind could have conjured such a sharp nightmare.

Next to him, something warm shifts, a strong back pressed against his side.

The thought he might have allowed someone into his private room last night and quickly forgotten it is embarrassing, but Byakuya is careful as he sits up in bed, hand darting up when he feels something foreign brush over his shoulder. His fingers slide along the length of his hair and he pauses, catching a clump of hair that feels intricately woven together. Carefully, he holds it in front of his face, thumb ghosting over the ridges of hair.

Braids? Byakuya has never worn his hair in braids except once when he lost a bet to Yoruichi and she insisted on braiding flowers into his hair. Something  _ else _ feels off and he touches the other side of his head, fingers skating over hair shorn short and close to his scalp. Did Yachiru slip in during the night to make a statement out of his hair?

The thought is disconcerting even before the person next to him sits up in bed.

He blames the close brush with sleep on why it takes so long for him to put the pieces together, his lips parting in shock at the familiar shock of deep crimson hair falling down a lean, muscular back with skin a few shades too light to be familiar. The tattoos are similar but different; he knows Renji’s tattoos better than he wants to admit. They are broad, and black, and blocky in shape and style. These are slimmer, almost graceful, but sharper.

“Taichou?” The voice is not as deep as he expects and Byakuya blinks a few times even before the man turns to face him, eyes heavily lidded with sleep. “‘Nother nightmare?”

“Hmm?” Byakuya presses his lips together to hide his own expression of shock, though his eyes must look wild, darting all over this man’s face. “I suppose that’s so.”

The tattoos on Renji’s face stretch across his forehead, bracketing either side of his widow’s peak as if they were always meant to be there (and Byakuya supposes this must be so) but the ones before him now are different. They bisect slim eyebrows, frame soft almond brown eyes. This man is  _ beautiful, _ soft and aristocratic features that make Byakuya think of artwork, of statues. Such a face would inspire artists and poets across the four worlds, of that much he is absolutely certain.

It occurs to him, despite all odds, that this… Is Abarai Renji.

_ But it cannot be him. _ He knows Renji. He has  _ known _ Renji for decades, has fought beside him and watched him grow in power and strength and personality. Even As Nodt’s brutal attacks did not mar his vision so permanently that this man can be Abarai Renji.

He is, though. Byakuya feels a creeping certainty somewhere in his gut that this man is Renji, and he… Is familiar enough with Byakuya that he slides across the futon, one hand coming to rest on the side of his neck, fingers curling warm against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine that rocks through the core of his body.

_ What is going on? _ Byakuya bites down on his lip, afraid to voice the question aloud.

“Sorry I wasn’t awake for you this time.” Renji muffles a yawn against his other palm, then rubs the hand over his jaw and heaves a sigh. “That human beat the shit out of me, so I must’ve been out pretty hard. What was this one about?”

_ That human. _ What human other than Kurosaki Ichigo has the power to cause Renji harm? And it cannot be Ichigo he is speaking of, because Ichigo would not raise a hand to him. Not anymore, especially not since Kazui’s birth. “Dying. I dreamed I was dying.”

“Oh.” Renji blinks at him blearily for a moment before shuffling even closer, seemingly unbothered at the prospect of invading Byakuya’s personal space. “I’m sorry, Taichou.”

“No matter.” Byakuya dares to lift a hand of his own, soothing his fingers through Renji’s hair— longer than he has ever seen it, and thicker and more luxurious. “How are you?”

Renji rolls his neck, runs his tongue over lips far fuller than the ones Byakuya used to imagine kissing only in the deepest, darkest, quietest parts of the night. “Good. Fourth division really fixed me up after that fight. You think Kurosaki’s gonna turn up again?”

“I don’t know.” Better to play it safe than sorry, especially because Byakuya feels something tug at the back of his mind at Renji’s words.

Kurosaki… Byakuya braces a hand on the futon as a memory of himself slowly trickles to him, only the setting is wrong. He remembers his first true encounter with Kurosaki Ichigo on a dark street of Karakura Town, remembers how it only took one slice to bring him to his knees and keep him there, how he considered removing Ichigo’s arm to punish him for touching his cape. Remembers Rukia kicking his arm away, and—

This memory is close, but wrong. Daytime instead of night, the ruined destruction of the city instead of a quiet street that anyone could have walked along while they had their confrontation. Rukia kicking Ichigo back several feet, his zanpakuto thrust into her—

Byakuya presses a palm to his forehead. “I believe I am starting to get a headache.”

_ Something is wrong. _ But he isn’t quite sure what the hell is going on.

“You should rest, then. It’s so early.” Renji’s hands are gentle on his shoulders, urging him back down into bed, his head coming to rest on a soft pillow. “Considering we handled everything and brought Rukia back to Soul Society, we should be cut a little slack.”

Brought her back to Soul Society— “Is she well, then?” She must be in prison once more.

“I think so. Having her powers back in such a sudden rush might have left her a little dazed, but she seemed fine when we left the fourth.” Renji drags the comforter up over him before settling down at his side, head propped up on the hand of one arm.

So Rukia is not in prison once more. Byakuya stares up at the ceiling, not sure what to say. What to think. What had  _ happened? _ What was going on?  _ Maybe this is the dream after all. _

Maybe it was meant to be the one final moment of life given to him before everything faded to black and the reishi of his soul joined the rest of Soul Society.

“You’re so tense, Taichou.” Renji’s voice is laden with disapproval as he runs his free hand along Byakuya’s throat, fingers brushing carefully over the skin of his collarbone and Byakuya realizes, belatedly, that he is naked beneath the comforter. That Renji probably is, too. “That nightmare of yours must have really messed you up, huh?”

“It appears so. My mind feels muddled. Refresh me on the last few days,” Byakuya says.

Renji stills next to him and stares down at him with unreadable eyes before he smiles softly, and it eases the harsh lines of his face into something almost boyish and far too sweet. This man is his lieutenant? Surely not. “It’s one of those days for you, huh?”

Byakuya shrugs and tries for a half-smile, and Renji hums in what sounds like understanding.

“Kurosaki Ichigo faced down the Grand Fisher and defeated him with the help of the Quincy who attacked me the first night I went to visit him.” Renji’s fingers dip lower with his words, sneaking beneath the comforter to trace invisible paths on Byakuya’s bare chest. “I, ah, lost to him. Embarrassingly. But you struck him down three times, and then Rukia saw the error of her ways and came back to us after retrieving her powers from Kurosaki. For us, everything is back to normal. Except for your nightmares.”

None of that… None of that is truly accurate. Byakuya tries not to argue the point because Renji sounds so sure in every breath, every word. The touch of his hand is just as firm, just as concentrated. “It’s been a busy time. No wonder I’m having nightmares.”

“But you have me here to care for you.” Renji drops his hand and his hand slips into Byakuya’s hair, fingers coiling in the braids. “Like I promised when we were younger.”

_ When we were younger? _ “You have always been loyal even to a fault.” It feels strange coming out of his mouth but Renji’s smile widens, so the words must be correct.

“Only to you, Taichou.” Renji leans in so that his breath curls warm against the side of Byakuya’s neck, dampening his skin. “You pulled me out of the gutter and gave me purpose in life. You gave me a will to learn and to fight. How could I ever take that for granted?”

Evidently, he was much kinder in this world— wherever this world  _ was _ — than he was in his former… Life? But that could not be right. “You speak too highly of me.”

“I could never. The noble who broke propriety to adopt his little sister, to take in a Rukongai street dog and make something of him.” Renji’s voice is warm and fond around all of the wrong topics, all of the wrong sentiments because Byakuya… Did none of that. He made the choices he did because of Hisana, and none of them included taking Renji in. “Even when your father tried to discourage you, you trained me to fight.”

Unbidden, a memory that does not feel quite like his own surfaces. Sunlight spilling through the sakura trees in the gardens, warm and heavy sweet air not enough to weigh them down as they sparred in the gardens. Byakuya’s laughter, the flash of their zanpakuto as Zabimaru met Senbonzakura again and again. But Renji is clothed in the same finery as he is, training clothing still speaking of wealth and nobility because the Kuchiki Clan’s power and influence is sewn into every stitch of their clothing.

Renji falls into him when their arms are sore and their knees are too weak to hold their weight and Byakuya leans into him, breathes in the scent of sweat and skin…

It is unlike him. He would never, in a thousand lifetimes, do such a thing.

Callused fingers soothe his brow when it furrows. “You always look so severe when something upsets you. Thinking about the nightmare again? Let it go. There’s nothing here but the two of us and the sun and the bedroom. It’s peaceful.”

“It is peaceful.” Byakuya catches Renji by the wrist before he can take his hand away, bringing those fingers down to his lips to kiss them.

This feels like blasphemy, like sacrilege. The threads of fate twisted red around Renji’s heart and tied him to Rukia long before Byakuya was ever a part of the picture and yet Renji laughs and presses up against his side, fingers tracing the curve of Byakuya’s lips. When they part just so under the pressure, he slips one inside and Byakuya tries to ignore the way his face warms at the press of Renji’s finger against his tongue.

“How tired are you?” Renji asks him, and when he draws his finger free he smears wetness across Byakuya’s lip. “I’ll help you forget before you go back to sleep, Taichou.”

He should absolutely not take Renji up on that offer and wonders, distantly, if this Renji, whoever he is, has just yet to realize his love for Rukia or not.

Before he can think about that too deeply, soft lips press to the side of his neck, mouthing against his skin until his breath hitches and he squirms beneath the comforter, flushed and warm all over. This feels familiar and unfamiliar all at once, a dizzying combination that makes it hard for him to decide how he feels about this. What  _ this _ even is, Renji’s hands sliding down his bare torso, tracing the curve of his waist as he shifts to half-lay on top of him, his gentle ministrations turning to flicks of his tongue, teeth dragging against his throat until Byakuya whimpers and tilts his head back.

Maybe this is heaven. Maybe this is hell, and the nightmares will keep him on his toes.

“Byakuya.” The sound of his name rolling off of Renji’s tongue snaps him back into the moment and he blinks into the dark eyes above his own, realizing that Renji is on top of him and just as naked as Byakuya thought he was. “What was that dream really about?”

Slowly, Byakuya scrapes his teeth over his lower lip. “It felt like a very long dream,” he says, and Renji cocks his head, his expression thoughtful. “You were married to Rukia, and you had a daughter together. The dream ended with me dying to protect her.”

The words have Renji shuddering as he pushes himself up and off of Byakuya, sitting back down beside him, head coming to rest in his hands. “I don’t want to think about that,” he says, and Byakuya blinks at him, not sure what to say. “No offense to your little sister, but she’s like a sister to me, too. I couldn’t… That’s horrifying to think about.”

“I’m sorry.” Byakuya sits up slowly, and he realizes that sitting up… There is a difference in height. Renji is  _ shorter _ than him and he bites down on his tongue to stop a laugh. “Renji—”

“But you dying is worse. I’m torn between thinking the dying part is worse, or if it’s the fact that you and I weren’t together that makes it a true nightmare.” Renji’s arms are around his waist, then, pulling Byakuya up and into his lap, and the height difference is even more pronounced like this. “You are truly the other half of my soul. I could never imagine a world where you and I are not together.”

The weight of the words crashes down on Byakuya and his throat works as he tries to come up with something, anything, to say to Renji’s tender confession. “Fukutaichou, you’re certainly poetic first thing in the morning, aren’t you?”

“If it was for you, my words could speak art into existence.” Renji’s lips press against the hollow of his throat and Byakuya closes his eyes tight. “Let me help you forget that nightmare, then, and remind you that I will always be right here with you.”

Maybe this is damnation, Byakuya thinks, his mouth softening against Renji’s lips as he’s lain back down on the futon, Renji kneeling between his spread thighs. But Renji touches Byakuya’s body like it is an extension of his own, fingers tracing the lines and curves and scars on his skin like he knows the placement of every single one of them. His mouth devours Byakuya’s, lips and teeth and tongue leaving him a whimpering mess long before Renji ever kisses his throat, biting a mark into it to match one of his own tattoos.

“I couldn’t imagine that.” Renji’s hand strokes along the inside of his thigh and Byakuya bites back a gasp at the boldness of his touch. He’s done this before, probably a thousand times, but it feels  _ new _ and strange. “Living a life without touching you. Without kissing you. Without spending my every waking moment at your side. As your lieutenant, as your friend, as your lover. You took me in and changed my entire life.”

_ Did I? _ If he stretches, Byakuya might manage those memories. The memories of a dusty-faced youth with shaggy red hair whose dark eyes glittered like precious gems when, against everything he was ever taught, Byakuya bent all the rules to extend a hand to him.

“You’re everything to me. All I care about.” Renji’s mouth is soft against his stomach, nipping at the indent of his hip even as his hand climbs higher, fingers tracing soft damp skin while he looks up at Byakuya from beneath the red torrent of his hair. “My Taichou, my savior, my honor. Take this with you into your dreams.”

His memories are sideways and so it feels like the first time and Byakuya all but screams, his hands tangled in the torrent of Renji’s hair as his body bows against Renji’s mouth, against the pressure of his tongue as it traces its way inside of him, until his body is exhausted from waves of pleasure. And still Renji does not stop, not until their bodies are wedded together, his hands biting bruises into Byakuya’s hips.

If this is damnation, then Byakuya will gladly burn.

**Author's Note:**

> if this seemed confusing: it's meant to be that byakuya dies in manga continuity and "wakes up" in live action film continuity. did you know i'm a giant SAP for live action byaren? because i am.
> 
> also i realize this was last month but guess who wants to finish it????? it's me. there's just one more installment of this series and then i'll have actually finished it. life just got in the way.
> 
> [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kuchikibyakuya) || [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/transizuru) || [dreamwidth](isamikodakas.dreamwidth.org)


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